


Freeze your Brain

by fruitbattery



Series: nsfw mechs [7]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: (non-sexual), Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Disregard for Bodily Health, Canon-Typical Violence, Content Warning: Amputation, Edging, Hijinks & Shenanigans, I can't believe that's not a tag already, M/M, Multi, Painplay, Temperature Play, The Gang Does a Science, Trans Male Character, background lyf/marius, background prison mechs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29689722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitbattery/pseuds/fruitbattery
Summary: Raphaella lands the Aurora on a planet with unusual snow. Jonny isn't cold. Brian is.
Relationships: Drumbot Brian/Jonny d'Ville/Gunpowder Tim
Series: nsfw mechs [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1659379
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	Freeze your Brain

**Author's Note:**

> Terms used for trans masc characters' anatomy: cock, dick, cunt, hole

Jonny makes it to Airlock 4 in the requested five minutes, raring for the chance to see some proper snow. It’s been ages since they’ve gone anywhere cold. Sure, Raph had said something about it being extra-heavy, but that just means it’s better for brutal snowball fights as far as he’s concerned.

Brian and Tim are staring at him with flat expressions. “What,” Tim asks, “are you wearing?”

“My clothes.”

Brian seems more concerned than Tim does. “Jonny, I’m assuming you remember that snow is cold?”

Jonny rolls his eyes. “Yes, Brian, I know that snow is cold. I’ll survive.”

Tim looks dubious. “Of course you will, Jonny. All of us will. But don’t come crying to me that you’re cold and you want to go inside. You commit.

Jonny’s eyes barely have time to rest before he’s rolling them again. “Tim, I have never come crying to you at any time in my life.”

“Alright.” He’s still dubious, but Tim opens the airlock regardless and leads Brian and Jonny outside.

\---

Four heads poke, Scooby-Doo-esque, out of Raphaella’s lab. “Huh,” Ivy says. “This should be interesting.”

Marius is gawping. “Is he really wearing–”

“A t-shirt and vest, yes.” Raphaella can barely hide her amusement, and is choosing not to anyway. 

Lyf is just smirking. “Oh, I can’t wait to see how this pans out.”

\---

The extra-heavy snow is turning out beautifully. Jonny might have noodle arms, but he can pick up a one-pound snowball no problem, and between him and Tim there’s already some solid dents in Brian’s skin. They’ve both acquired some solid bruises as well; Jonny’s even got some blood blooming over his ribcage. Of course, Raphaella will be out soon to collect her samples, and when she’s done they’ll leave, but they might as well get in some nice clean serious injuries while they’re here.

\---

In the distance, shouting. Raph isn’t bothered as she unracks the requisite test tubes, handing a few out to each of her assistants. They’ll gather multiple samples from ten different points spread around the area and keep it in the freezer, replicating more as needed, and conduct some tests. Density, composition, elasticity, radioactivity, all the usuals. Lyf will collect from close to the ground, Marius from the top layer of the three foot or so accumulation, Ivy from the tops of some trees, and Raphaella… Well, what are wings for if not flying to the top of a mountain?

From far away– “Jonny, your lips are blue.”

“Fuck off, I’m not cold.”

“Didn’t say that you were, just that your lips were blue.

“Can a man not change his lipstick mid-snowball fight?”

Brian’s voice is gently amused– his default state around Jonny. “I thought that might be hard if your hands were shaking.”

Raphaella shakes her head fondly before taking to the sky. The last she hears is something in Tim’s voice about “...take you right here in the snow, see how you like it.” She’ll leave them to it. She doesn’t need to watch Jonny die of frostbite– not today, at least.

\---

Jonny is cold. Brian and Tim have stepped closer to him on either side, so it’s harder and harder to hide how much he’s shaking, and no one is throwing snowballs anymore. Surprising exactly no one, Jonny turns the dial all the way to “stubborn brat” and breaks off the knob.

“‘M not cold. B-burning up in fact. Why don’t y–oof!”

Brian, having had enough. has laid him out on his back with a good shove. The leather vest, by definition, isn’t enough to shield his bare arms from the shock of the snow– thankfully it seems no colder than he’s used to, and the increased density actually makes it so he doesn’t sink in as far, but– “Fuck!”

“What was that?” Tim appears in his field of view, dressed in his full-length leather duster. And a sweater, and that scarf Ivy knitted him, and those stupid goggles. “Was that a little chilly?”

“N-no–”

“Then I guess you don’t need me to warm you up, then?”

Jonny can’t contain the noise he makes at that, and Tim grins in knowing triumph. “So you want me to…” He straddles Jonny’s waist, still standing, and lowers himself down to a kneeling position. “And you wouldn’t mind if I…”

Jonny’s shirt buttons are being undone, and so is his brain. With every inch of neck and chest exposed the cold wind blows stronger through him, evaporating the heat tingling through his skin almost as soon as it forms. Weakly, his numb fingers find purchase on Tim’s neck, who hisses and jerks back, and Jonny grins. He’s still exposed to the wind, though, and suddenly, achingly bereft. Tim cups his hands over his mouth for a second, and Jonny is confused, until a set of very warm soft lips press themselves to his collarbone and he whines, temperature nerves singing. The spot they leave behind is damp and much too cold when he pulls away, and the sensation shoots directly to Jonny’s lower back and groin. God, if he could only feel his fingers...

Tim places his hands in the snow either side of Jonny and leans down for a proper kiss, slipping a thigh between Jonny’s legs while he’s at it. Jonny takes it, if only to block a small part of the wind swirling directly down his half-open shirt. He thrusts up against the proffered thigh, small shocks of pleasure mingling with the discomfort of his cotton-clad shoulders on the cold snow.

Then Tim’s weight shifts, and Jonny feels a hand slipping up his shirt, and then an ice cold hand is pressing against the bleeding snowball mark on his ribcage. The pulse of pain is intensified by the coldness of his whole skin, and he shakes and cries and feels for a second before he realizes Brian has shoved Tim off him and scooped him up bridal style.

“We are going inside.”

Brian’s wool coat is nicer than the cold ground, but Tim is beside Jonny not on top of him, and his elbow and hand joints won’t respond to reach for him. Distantly, he’s aware of frozen tears on his cheeks. They’re only from the wind.

\---

The last test tube slides home with a clink, and Lyf and Raph smile at each other with the satisfaction of a job well done. Marius and Ivy have been testing the snow in less... official ways, mostly by attempting to knock branches off trees with improvised molded shuriken. Raph can tell Ivy’s planning something though– she’s got that twinkle. Best to leave it alone.

“Jonny and crew get inside?” Lyf has fallen easily into step beside her, brushing some residual snow out of their hair, and looking like they couldn’t really care one way or another. She laughs.

“About half an hour ago. They should be busy for a while.”

“Reattaching Jonny’s fingertips?”

A shout of pain from behind them. Both whip around to witness Ivy up a tree again, crouching on a branch with a small pile of ice throwing stars set next to her. Marius, on the ground, is clutching the bloody stump of his wrist while Ivy cackles.

“...Unlike Marius, Jonny will not be in need of reconstruction. He can heal from frostbite down to the palm before he loses any bits. I’ve checked! Marius, on the other hand…. well, he won’t have that for a few days.” 

Marius’s shout. “Lyyyyyf!”

“What.”

“Ivy cut my hand off!”

“You’ll survive.”

\---

Heat explodes through Jonny as soon as the trio makes it inside the airlock, and he groans and shifts in Brian’s arms. “MMmmmmph.”

“Quite.” That’s Tim, grin half-cocked and posture disinterested as he strides next to Brian. “Brian, let’s pick a closer room today. Don’t want to waste all that cold.”

Jonny doesn’t understand, but he’s on board with reaching a room sooner rather than later. The discomfort of the cold is fading, if slowly, and in its place the heat it brings is scorching him with the need for touch, pressure, cozy, anything. Tim flings open a door– unused bedroom, good enough– and Brian scoots up the bed with Jonny in his lap, clunking gently against the headboard.

Jonny loves seeing Tim advance on him like that, catlike, but he doesn’t have the chance to savor it for long before there’s a knife on him and his shirt is being cut off. Not to ribbons this time, no– Tim slices each button off in lieu of opening them, after neatly excising the zipper from his nice leather vest. Jonny’s gonna kill him. Right now, though, the chill of this apparently unheated room is making his still-warming skin pucker into gooseflesh as the shirt comes off, and it’s distracting enough to make him just lie there and pant. 

There’s a shifting behind him– Brian’s hands moving down his bare back, but distractedly, like he’s– ah. Brian pushes him to sit up for a moment, then the coat is opened, and he is roughly shoved against a still-freezing metal chestplate.

“Fuck.” Tim is crawling into his lap now, all warm and still clothed and Brian’s cold hand is gently pressing him by his throat back into the cold metal and god he’s gonna explode. Brian’s hand has moved down to his hip, and Tim’s blazingly warm one is on the other and now struggling with a zipper while his other hand strokes delicately over the bruise on his ribs, sending pleasure-pain signals everywhere. No one’s mouth is on Jonny anywhere, though, so he strains forward to fix that. Tim bites his chin for his trouble.

“Fuck you, kiss me.”

“Admit you’re cold.”

Jonny runs a calculation and, as so often happens, comes up with the answer ‘Oppose.’ “Nah, m’not cold. M’blazing hot. Need to cool down.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Ah, well. Suit yourself.” There is a great bit of wiggling as Jonny’s pants are struggled off, and then just as heightened stillness. Tim has grabbed each of Jonny’s thighs and spread them, exposing him to the chilly air, and the only movement is soft shifting and quiet whining. 

“There you go, Jonny, all lip and vitriol, but soon as I get your legs open you’re a desperate little slut. Figures.” Tim’s grin is even more catlike, but he’s holding back, looking up at Brian. “Brian, would you like to do the honors?”

Brian’s other hand, kept carefully away from Jonny when at all possible, presses ice coldness over Jonny’s flushed cunt, and he wails. Brian just keeps touching him, moving in little circles over his cock and keeping a firm pressure. His hand is so cold, almost uncomfortable, and it’a making Jonny ache, and his nerves are singing with sweet fire, and Brian won’t go faster.

“Please– more–”

Tim grins, and slips a just-too-cool hand up Jonny’s ribs to probe at the bruise there. Jonny keens, his whole body zinging with each movement of Brian’s hand, but it’s not enough still. He tries to thrust up, almost on instinct, but it’s like Brian’s hand is preprogrammed and it won’t move for anything. 

The tears this time aren’t from the wind.

Tim moves back a little and kneels up, swapping his hands on Jonny’s thighs for his knees keeping them open, and clumsily maneuvers out of his own pants. Jonny just watches, edges of his vision slightly blurry, as Tim spreads his legs and Jonny’s a little wider and runs a finger through his own wetness. Jonny can only watch as Tim slowly fingers himself open, having lost the ability to move much in Brian’s grasp. Brian’s other hand has returned to his throat, alternately keeping him in place and tracing cool patterns down his flushed neck and chest, and soon enough Jonny feels the edge approaching.

“I’m gonna– oh– don’t stop–”

Brian doesn’t, but he doesn’t speed up either, and Jonny’s orgasm is a smooth bell curve of pleasure that rolls slowly up his spine and just doesn’t stop. He doesn’t have it in him to cry out, but he arches so severely back against Brian he’s honestly worried he’ll pull something, and Brian just keeps going with that same even pressure until he could cry again from it.

Tim reaches for him, slipping damp fingers between Jonny’s lips, and he sucks on them greedily. When they come out, Tim is staring at him.

“Are you actually warm now?”

“Mmm.”

Tim shakes his head in fond exasperation and surges forward to kiss him anyway, and Brian finally pulls back from his tortuous movements to let him. Tim clearly hasn’t come yet, though, and soon enough Jonny’s hand slips up his thigh and Tim is rutting against three fingers as if his life depends on it.

As Tim seems close, though, Jonny leans forward to mutter, “Shouldn’t we let Brian in on some of this?”

Tim whines as Jonny’s hand slows, but reluctantly lifts himself up. “You’re right. Brian, would you like to pick the dick?”

Brian murmurs an assent and extracts himself from the pile, leaving Jonny to slowly run his fingers over Tim’s dick and watch his breath hitch, to unbutton Tim’s too-sensible layers and oh so tenderly gnaw his collarbones bloody.. Tim is just reaching a fevered pitch of whining when Brian comes back with his new attachment– something curved with a bulb on the end that makes Tim’s eyes light up. “Oh, Brian, you spoil me.”

A shy smile. “Happy to help.” He stands by the side of the bed. “How do you want me?”

Tim looks from him to Jonny, considering. “Well, I wanna get my mouth on that pretty cunt sometime this afternoon, so why don’t I…” Tim positions himself on his stomach in front of Brian, who grins. 

“Looks amazing to me. You look amazing.”

Tim grins too, when he sees the still-boneless Jonny scootch up to the headboard. “We need to turn this 90 degrees, I’m not sitting up with nothing behind me after what you two pulled.”

All is in place now– Jonny against the headboard where Brian was, Tim on his stomach, and Brian behind him teasing lightly at his hole with one finger. Tim starts, as usual, by biting Jonny’s thigh as hard as only Tim can, making Jonny twitch and keen, then wasting no time in laving Jonny with his tongue and fingers. Jonny both feels and sees when Brian deems Tim ready and lowers down over him, pushing in slowly and making Tim moan against Jonny. Brian goes slow, but with the addition of a finger on Tim’s cock and Jonny’s teasing from earlier, Tim is whining helplessly as he takes as much of Jonny between his lips as possible and nips gently.

Jonny cries out in pleasure and fists a hand in Tim’s hair, fucking his mouth as best he can as Tim shakes apart around him. Jonny keeps grinding against Tim’s face through Tim’s overstimulated groans as Brian keeps moving, but eventually Tim manages to make his mouth work again and Jonny is crying and shaking apart a second time, finally warmed all the way through.

\---

The noises from the spare bedroom have stopped. Ivy, lounging in the corner of the lab, performs a mockery of applause. Marius attempts to join her before wincing at the contact to his new, tiny baby hand on top of the otherwise exposed stump of an arm. He grumbles quietly to himself. “Cutting off hands should be illegal.”

“Since when has Ivy cared about illegality?” Lyf’s eyebrows are raised incredibly high.

“Well, it should be Aurora-illegal. No one should have to relive the trauma of losing their mechanized part again.”

“Marius, I cut off your flesh hand. And besides, didn’t you say you didn’t remember losing it?”

He pouts. “I was hoping you’d forgotten.”

Raphaella doesn’t seem to have noticed any of the talk around her, glued to her photon microscope. (Ivy insists that “photon” is redundant, that that just means it’s a regular microscope. Raph always brushes her off, mumbling something about Proper Scientific Naming Conventions.) Marius is visibly getting sleepier on his cot as his mechanism draws more energy in preparation for a long night of regenerating. Lyf sees it too, and is at his side in an instant, snuggling in around him. Ivy has sunken into a book, hunched over her drawn-up knees on the countertop near Raphaella in a way that can’t possibly be comfortable.

Raph feels the presence of all three of them around her like she feels the hum of the ship and, more distantly, the three rowdy men settling to sleep in their shitty cold bedroom. She’s close to a full categorization of the substance that passes for snow on this planet, and soon enough they’ll be able to begin exploring the potential uses. How exciting, to have such limitless possibility at your fingertips! Tomorrow they’ll gather more if they need to and take off, scouring the universe for more interesting blocks to expand it with.


End file.
